Monarch Butterflies

Transformation Is What It Is All About

When I was eight years old and living in Fiji I observed the life cycle of  monarch butterflies, from caterpillar to chrysalis, and then to a delicate-winged miracle of transformation.

We kids walked the island regularly, hiking beyond the roads and paths to  the rocky vine covered cliffs overlooking the lagoons and beaches. We were explorers, every turn through the jungle seeming to reveal another never-before-seen wonder. The land felt untouched and wild. The butterflies were clinging to milkweed that grows in a single location on the island. That’s why we never saw monarchs in the village; no milkweed.

We gathered several milkweed plants, ones that had lots of caterpillars on them, We planted them in clay pots and placed them in a large screened cage outside the small bure that served as our classroom. We watched the yellow, white, and black-banded caterpillars chew through a forest of milkweed leaves, clear cutting the branches like miniature lumberjacks, and growing bigger each day. We looked on in wonder as they transformed into chrysalises, checking in on each tiny bundle every day. They transformed from green to a see-through black. Then, to our unbridled delight, the transfigured emerged, unfurled their wings, and took flight. I remember their wings flashing in the sun as a gentle breeze lifted them up and away.

A couple of years ago I had another “close encounter” with monarch butterflies. A friend, who has a huge flower garden has been cultivating milkweed plants for the sake of the monarchs. Hundreds of them use her offerings to feed and metamorphose into adult butterflies. She keeps many of the milkweed plants in tents so that they are protected from birds and other predators.

In the fall of 2023 my gardener friend had an out-of-town trip scheduled. She planned to be away for a month, but some of the caterpillars were still aggressively feeding and showed no inclination to enter the pupa stage of life. But the weather was beginning to change, and these last caterpillars were in danger of not having the time to make their transformation into butterflies before it got too cold. So, she brought the potted plants to me with the caterpillars still clinging to and pounding down the milkweed leaves. She also brought a mesh-windowed tent, which, both, kept the caterpillars contained and let in the light and air.

The tent was installed on our front porch in a protected spot tucked against the wood siding and below the roof overhang. And so, we watched for days as the caterpillars chewed through the milkweed, and still they declined to pupate. We had to collect more milkweed to keep up with demand. And the more they ate, the bigger they got. The caterpillars began to be recognizable to us, and we gave them names, Ishmael, Princess Buttercup, Pontoof, and Ling-Ling, to mention a few. The more they ate, the bigger they got, and their poops got larger right along with their body size.

When the caterpillars were ready to transform they became very still and unmoving. They stopped eating. They attached themselves to the tent or a branch. Their bodies moved into J shapes. Then all of a sudden they shed their skin from head to tail, revealing the bright green chrysalis (or pupa). We were always watching for that moment, but always seemed to miss it. The night-time temperatures continued to drop; winter’s arrival was imminent. We thought it would be detrimental to the pupa to bring the tent into the house and wanted to interfere with their  natural life as little as possible. We put a low wattage LED light bulb inside the tent for some warmth. We wrapped three sides of the tent at night for insulation, but left plenty of it open for fresh air. We were on pins and needles as we waited for the butterflies to emerge from their chyrsalises. Like anxious parents we hovered over and checked in on them. And while we waited the tiny creature’s body tissue was completely breaking down and reforming into butterflyness.

It was enchanting to watch the butterflies emerge from their cocoons, quite a bit more elegant than the birth throes of mammals, I think.  They hung motionless for hours after their emergence. Then they began to move their wings, flapping and expanding them slowly. Flowering plants were placed inside their tent, but some of the butterflies seemed too weak to feed on them, or simply disinterested. Some had fallen to the floor and missed the flowers altogether. So, I made honey water to feed these butterflies. I dipped my fingertip into the honeyed water and offered it to a butterfly, my other fingers providing a secure perch. Once their probiscus found the honey you could feel the grip from their six feet tighten, and they did not let go. Like any creature, when it recognizes the “source” it cleaves to it. It was amazing to feel the lightness of their legs on my finger, and to feel them sucking up the water that I had drizzled on my finger. This burst of nutrients helped jumpstart their first days as butterflies. Once fed, I placed them on the flowering plants and we watched them crawl around, working their wings, and getting stronger, ready for flight. We placed those plants on the back porch in the sun when the butterflies seemed like they were ready for flight. Sometimes they just sat on a branch and charged up in the sun for hours. Other times they tried flying almost immediately. We got them to crawl up onto our fingers for some flight practice sessions. As we gently raised and lowered our hands they held on tight, and flapped their wings, taking small exploratory flights. When each butterfly was ready to leave, it did. No goodbyes, just a flick of the wings as the butterfly caught a breeze and off it went. The migration had begun.

What an experience this was for me. I was moved by the whole thing. It was like a magic trick, a complete transformation of identity, form, and body parts. Seeing the caterpillars become the chrysalis was seeing a change from constant physical activity and eating to a state of no movement, no food, and no activity. It was like watching them go into a death of a kind, or a deep sleep state. When the butterflies emerged they were so alive, so beautiful, and ready to begin the next part of their journey.

I made a painting of one of the butterflies that we watched over. We named her Princess Buttercup when she was in her caterpillar form. She was vigorous and beautiful when she emerged from her chrysalis. Her brother Ishmael also emerged on that day. After one night of hanging and spreading their wings, and a day of feeding on the nectar of flowers, and resting in the sun, they took off on a sunny afternoon, heading south.

The western monarch butterfly population is in great danger. The latest Western Monarch Count by the Xerces Society during the 2024-2025 season surveyed over 250 overwintering sites for the monarch butterflies. They recorded a peak population of only 9,119 monarchs. There has been a sharp decline in their population in recent years. In the 1980s it was common to have more than 4.5 million monarch butterflies winter in California. Now, the predictions for the western monarch are dire, with a 98-99 percent probability of extinction within 60 years.

The butterflies are threatened by multiple factors; climate change, loss of habitat, lack of milkweed plant, and pesticide use. Also the longer and more severe droughts threaten the monarch breeding habitats. For example the recent Los Angeles-area wildfires burned groves of trees where the monarchs spend the winter in Lower Topanga Canyon.

We can all help out the monarchs by planting native milkweed. This is their food source and it is not nearly as available to them as it once was. I am planting milkweed in my yard as well as other perennial butterfly flowers. Take a look at the National Wildlife Federation article covering this.

Also, consider limiting or discontinuing pesticide use for the sake of monarchs and all of the pollinators.

Note: In California a Scientific Collection Permit is required for handling monarch butterflies. You can find out more about community science programs about monarch butterflies at Monarch Joint Venture.org

Additionally, you can find a lot of information and ways to get involved in conservation at Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation